


we're both criminals with bad intentions

by stevebuckiest



Series: be gay, do crime [1]
Category: Knives Out (2019), We Have Always Lived in the Castle (2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Arguing, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing, Knives Out (2019) Spoilers, M/M, Murder Husbands, Pillow Talk, Porn With Plot, Sexual Tension, canon means nothing to me, kind of, pillow murder plots!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23454391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest
Summary: title from untitled 08 by kendrick lamar
Relationships: Charles Blackwood/Ransom Drysdale
Series: be gay, do crime [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809196
Comments: 12
Kudos: 120





	we're both criminals with bad intentions

**Author's Note:**

> title from untitled 08 by kendrick lamar

It’s barely ten when Ransom bursts out of the house, jaw clenched and expression fuming.

It’s exactly 10:01 when Charles walks out after him.

“H, come on, don’t be like that,” he calls out, polished shoes crunching on the gravel of the driveway as he jogs over to where Ransom is storming towards his car. He reaches out a hand to lay on Ransom’s shoulder in hopes of placating him, but the other man jerks away from the touch and fits him with a hostile glare.

“That’s something I seem to be hearing a lot, these days,” Ransom snaps. “And don’t call me that, Blackwood. We aren’t teenagers anymore and we sure as hell aren’t friends anymore either.” He looks angry, and Charles knows him well enough to know that Ransom is _always_ angry, but there’s also an underlying thread of hurt in his expression that makes Charles push on despite the biting words.

“Fine, _Ransom_ ,” he grits out. The name feels unnatural on his tongue. “Don’t run away like this. Go back inside and talk to him.”

Ransom’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks infuriated, but he puts the keys to his car back in his pocket and turns towards Charles. “What’s there to talk about?” he scoffs. “He just practically disowned me. That entire bunch doesn’t give a shit about me and I don’t give a shit about them either. It’s family business, Blackwood, don’t put your two cents in about shit you know nothing about.”

Charles wants nothing more than to grab him by his shoulders and shake some sense into him, but he’s pretty sure if he did that right now, Ransom would sock him one in the jaw. Charles knows exactly how hard of a punch Ransom can throw, so he crosses his arms to stifle the urge to throttle him and sighs in frustration instead. “You’re not gonna get anywhere if you just leave,” he points out in annoyance. “Don’t be a fucking coward. Get back inside and grovel a little, the old man will be eating out of your hand in no time.” That’s how it’s always been, after all, for both of them.

Ransom’s mouth twists into a wry, ugly smile. “Like I said, Blackwood. Don’t try and give me advice about shit you know nothing about,” he says, voice suddenly eerily calm. It makes Charles skin crawl. Ransom is almost never calm. “Just because you’re my grandfather’s other darling doesn’t mean he tells you everything.” He leans in, like he’s about to tell Charles a secret, expression almost painfully knowing. “Word of advice from someone who _does_ know what they’re talking about? Don’t tell him everything, either.”

“Why don’t you stop speaking in fucking riddles and just say what you mean, Ransom?” Charles is getting tired of this little game Ransom always seems to be playing with him since he’s come back to visit. He knows they have a rocky past, but he doesn’t understand why Ransom can’t just let them fuck out the frustration like they always do. It hasn’t been _that_ long and it’s obvious the heat is still there, with how hungrily Ransom looks at him when everyone else isn’t. Charles is looking right back, but something about the whole thing seems different this time. Ransom hasn’t made a single move. Normally by now in a fight like this, he’d have Charles down in the backseat of his car, but here they are standing face to face without a single move to go further.

Charles doesn’t know what’s different, but he doesn’t like it.

Ransom’s jaw clenches again. “No.” The word is said with such bratty petulance that Charles finally decides he’s had _enough_ , damn anything that’s changed between them.

“Listen here, _Hugh_ ,” he seethes, noting the way that Ransom’s eyes widen slightly at the use of his birth name and Charles stepping closer. “You don’t get to talk to me like that just because you’ve got your panties in a twist. All I’m trying to do is help your sorry ass not lose your inheritance, and you don’t even have the decency to say thank you?” He moves forward while he’s talking until he has Ransom practically pressed against his car door, close enough to see the way his pupils dilate. “Where are those playboy manners of yours? They disappear that fast, now that you’re not a trust fund baby anymore?”

“Fuck you, Blackwood,” Ransom hisses, hands coming up to shove at Charles’ shoulders, but the other man doesn’t budge.

Charles raises an eyebrow, grinning in a way that he hopes is infuriating. “Only if you ask nicely.” He knows just how to push Ransom’s buttons, and by the way his breathing is going heavy, it’s working in more ways than one.

“Eat shit, Charles,” Ransom spits, hands gripping at Charles’ shoulders in a last-ditch effort to get him off. He keeps them there after it doesn’t work, fingers digging into Charles’ skin through his suit jacket, and Charles smirks at the gesture, knowing that he’s finally getting somewhere.

“Oh, it’s back to Charles now, is it? Does that mean I can start calling you H again?” he taunts, hand moving to grip at the scarf wound around Ransom’s neck. “Or maybe some of the other names I used to call you,” he says lowly, tugging Ransom’s face closer by the fabric of his scarf. “Baby? Sweetheart? Darling?”

“Get the fuck off me,” Ransom demands. His voice has gone higher, cheeks visibly flushing even in the shitty cast of the mansion’s outdoor lights. Charles chuckles at him and gives his scarf another tug, just to watch the way it makes Ransom’s head jerk.

“Only if you agree to go back inside and talk to him.”

Ransom rears his head back, trying to fight his way out of Charles’ grip. “Why do you fucking care, Charles?” he snaps, voice growing louder. “It’s not like you get anything out of it. In fact, you’d probably get the money instead of me, so why don’t you just let me go and go back to sucking up to my grandfather instead? Isn’t that what you want? Why you’re here in the first place?”

Charles nearly jerks back himself. “I’m not here to try and steal your god damn inheritance, you idiot,” he says incredulously.

Ransom stills, expression slightly surprised. His eyes narrow. “Then why _are_ you here?” he asks, suddenly confused.

_Because I wanted to see you,_ Charles wants to say, but that’s not how they are, so he doesn’t. Instead, he smirks at Ransom and lets go of his scarf to pat his cheek condescendingly. “Your grandfather invited me for his birthday as a family friend. Besides, maybe I missed your sweet ass,” he hums, delighting in the way it makes Ransom color and scowl at the same time.

“Shut the fuck up, Charles,” he growls.

Charles leans in closer. “Make me, sweetheart,” he whispers, and that finally does it. Ransom surges forward and captures him in a heated, furious kiss. It’s been a few years since they’ve done this, and Charles nearly groans with how _good_ it is. He’d forgotten how hungrily Ransom kisses, how all that baseline anger of his seeps into the exchange and makes it that much more intense. He bites at Ransom’s lower lip and savors in the sweet noise he lets out before he pulls back. Ransom is panting, eyes dark, and Charles relishes the sight.

“Still not going back inside,” Ransom says breathlessly, and Charles blinks. For a moment he’d forgotten the whole reason they were fighting in the first place, but now that Ransom has reminded him, he frowns.

“Don’t be like that,” he tries to persuade, but Ransom cuts him off with a sharp look and an icy voice.

“You don’t understand,” Ransom says coldly. “And I don’t expect you to, but I’m telling you, I will not talk to that old bastard and nothing you say will make me even consider it.”

“Then make me understand! Just tell me what happened!” Charles groans in exasperation. “There’s not much you could tell me that surprise me too much, I know you well enough, I’d say,” he says, pointedly glancing down at their bodies, pressed together against the car.

Ransom smiles wryly and looks down as well. “Yeah, I guess so,” he says sarcastically, expression thoughtful. “Not out here,” he concedes, eyes flitting towards the windows of the house. There’s no one watching them, but Charles knows it’s only a matter of time before someone gets curious to where they’ve both gone, and they aren’t exactly eager to reveal their affairs to the rest of the Thrombeys. They’re lucky enough to have stolen that kiss while the rest of them are busy with Harlan’s cake.

“So come up to my room later, then?” Charles suggests. “Later, after they’re all in bed, use the portrait.” They used to use the portrait all the time as teenagers to sneak Charles in the house and in Ransom’s room at night when he was supposed to be at school. It was a staple in them getting away with their rendezvous growing up, and it looked like some things never really changed. “You can park off the driveway so they think you’ve left.”

Ransom nods and gives him a slight smile. “Now get off me so I can get out of here,” he demands a moment later, back to his usual asshole self. Charles does, satisfied with the promise that Ransom is going to give him answers. “Midnight?” Ransom adds as he unlocks his car and opens it to get inside and slide behind the wheel.

“See you then, darling.” Ransom glares at him as he starts to back his car up, but Charles simply smiles charmingly at him and waves while the other man heads down the driveway.

It seems that Charles has a date tonight.

__

Every time the Blackwoods came to visit the Thrombeys for more than just the day, Charles had always taken the guest bedroom across from Ransom’s room. When the two of them had begun messing around together, he had just gotten into the habit of it, and when he came to stay with them all these years later, the habit had not been broken. The two rooms were also located directly next to the portrait window entry, which made Charles sneaking in while they were growing up that much more convenient, and meant that when Ransom enters through it that night, Charles can hear him stepping quietly down the hallway as soon as he got inside.

Charles is waiting for him on the bed when the door slides open.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he drawls, leaning back against the headboard with his arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “Come on in.”

Ransom rolls his eyes and steps inside, quietly shutting the door and turning the lock shut behind him. “It’s my fucking house,” he says irritably, eyes flicking down to Charles’ exposed chest. He’s lying in bed in his pajamas, which consist of no shirt and flannel pants, and Charles is more than amused to see the way Ransom appreciates it despite his unimpressed glare.

“Not anymore, it seems,” Charles retorts sweetly, grinning innocently at the way Ransom scowls at him. “Sit down, H, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

Ransom begrudgingly perches himself on the edge of Charles’ bed, expression hostile. “I don’t owe you an explanation at all, Blackwood, so cut the smart remarks. And how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

Charles snorts. “Our whole relationship is built on smart remarks. And what would you rather me call you? Honey? Kitten?” he teases, practically cackling at the frustrated growl it elicits from Ransom at the end of the bed.

“Charles,” he warns, but the man in question just waves his hand.

“Fine, _Ransom_ , whatever. Now, get to it. We might have all night, but I have hopes for us making use of our time in a better way,” he purrs, leering at Ransom openly.

Ransom rolls his eyes in response, but flushes slightly nonetheless. “Yeah, well you might not feel that way after I’m finished explaining,” he says drily, and Charles frowns at the way Ransom looks down and twists his hands. He’s nervous. Ransom is almost _never_ nervous or any other demure emotion, save for when Charles has him in bed. Which, technically that’s where they are right now, but it doesn’t count when their dicks aren’t involved. It’s very out of character.

“Go on…” Charles says slowly.

“You know- everyone knows- that I’ve always been Harlan’s favorite,” Ransom begins, and Charles nods. Everyone definitely knows that, but Charles is probably the most aware considering he’s seen, heard about, or been involved in all the stupid shit Harlan had forgiven Ransom for pulling. “Well, you know, he’s getting old. He’s writing his will, but even before he wrote it, he had told me that he was planning on giving me everything,” Ransom says quietly, and at this, Charles’ eyebrows raise up in surprise.

“ _Everything_?” he says incredulously. “Nothing for anyone else?” Ransom shakes his head, and Charles frowns a little bit at that. He had been hoping Harlan would have thought about him at least a little in his will, left him a little something considering that he was a family friend and pretty much the second favorite after Ransom, but apparently not.

“He’s an all or nothing guy,” Ransom sighs, “I was supposed to be his heir, inherit the companies and decide who was going to run them. I was supposed to get the rights to his books, too. The house, the property. Everything.”

“So what happened?” Charles can’t help but ask.

Ransom raises his head and gives him a painful, tired smile. “What happened is I got too comfortable with him,” he admits, picking at a thread on the bed’s quilt. “I mean, I’ve always been the favorite. And something this big- I guess it got to my head. When I went down to his office, he showed me the will and was going on and on about how I was going to be his legacy, and then I ruined it.” Ransom takes in a deep breath and his expression hardens. “I- I came out to him. I figured it was the right time considering his big show of faith in me,” he grits out, voice steeled. “It went less than stellar.”

Charles is silent for a moment, brow furrowed. “You’re gay?” is all he can think of to say, and he frowns defensively at the withering look Ransom throws him.

“You’ve been sticking your dick in my ass since we were 16, Charles! Yes! I’m gay, how is this a surprise to you?” he snaps, and Charles throws his hands up.

“I thought you were bisexual or something!” he defends, and Ransom scowls at him, hands tightening their grip on the blanket. “You never told me.”

“It never came up with anyone,” Ransom says icily, and at that Charles winces. So he’s probably the second person Ransom has told so far and his reaction has been a little- brusque.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, huffing at the suspicious look Ransom gives him. “I am! I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting…that,” he finishes lamely.

Ransom’s jaw clenches and he laughs emptily. “Yeah, apparently neither was Harlan. He wasn’t exactly happy about it.”

“He took away the inheritance over it?” Charles asks quietly, eyes locked on Ransom’s pained expression. Ransom is trying to hide the hurt on his face, but it’s shining through with how choked up his voice comes out.

“Said he couldn’t invest everything into someone _like me_ that was never going to be able to continue the family legacy,” he says bitterly. “I can’t get married or have kids, so the family business would die with me unless he gave it to someone else. That’s what he did. Took away every penny and said he was going to write me out. Told me he didn’t approve of my lifestyle and that I wasn’t to be involved with the family anymore. He’s going to make sure I don’t see a single penny of his money, not even from my own parents.”

“That’s bullshit!” Charles bursts out, shoving himself up off the headboard to lean forward with his elbow on his knees. He fixes Ransom with an intense, angry look. ‘That’s fucking bullshit, H, you have to know that.”

“Yeah, I know, Charles,” Ransom says, voice resigned. “I’m the one it’s happening to, after all.”

Charles throws off his blanket and climbs off the bed to start pacing around the bedroom, seething with anger. “That bastard. That fucking bastard, I never would have thought-! After all this time we’ve spent with him. There has to be something we can do; he can’t just get away with this!” He bursts out, and Ransom suddenly bolts up and over to him, shoving a hand over his mouth and pulling him close.

_Quiet,_ he mouths, and Charles glares at him but falls silent at the creaking of the floorboards he hears coming towards his room. Someone must have been woken up by his outburst, and his eyes widen slightly at the realization. They can’t find Ransom here after he so clearly left or it’ll look suspicious, and god knows, half the family is nosy as hell. They’d never let it rest. Not to mention what Harlan might do to either of them if he finds them in such a compromising suspicion.

Sure enough, a curious voice comes from outside the door. “Charles?”

It’s Meg, and Charles silently curses their luck. Meg has had a crush on him for years, and more than half the time he’s around, she follows him around like a lovesick, politically woke puppy. It’s almost like she can smell the bisexuality on him, as if she’s some sort of minority sniffer.

Charles doesn’t exactly harbor a soft spot for her. Or any of them really, save for Ransom (and even him, only privately), now that Harlan’s revealed himself to be a traitorous homophobe. Practically blacklisting his own _family_ over something as simple as being gay.

Ransom slowly removes his hand from Charles mouth, and he licks his lips before calling back carefully, “Yeah?” Ransom gives him a judgmental look at the croaked word. _Very eloquent_ , Charles can imagine him saying. He glares at him and Ransom smirks. Asshole.

“Can you not sleep, either?” Meg asks plaintively, and Charles has to suppress a groan. She’s going to ask to come in, he just knows it, but he can’t let that happen when he has her cousin pretty much in his bed.

“I’m almost there,” he says back dismissively, hoping she’ll take the uninterested sound of his voice as a hint to go away. “I was just- reading a book! I got to a part that surprised me, is all.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause and Charles holds his breath in hopes that she’ll go away. While he’s waiting for a response, he feels Ransom’s hand sneak down towards his ass and he looks at the other man, eyes warning. _Don’t you fucking dare,_ he mouths, but Ransom just raises his eyebrows. When he pinches Charles ass, it’s not a surprise, but Charles yelps anyways and slaps him on the chest. _Asshole_. “Charles?” Meg calls again. “Are you sure you’re okay? I just heard a noise…”

“I’m- just caught up in this book, Meg, and I’d really like to finish it if you don’t mind,” he bites, glaring at Ransom furiously. It’s like he _wants_ them to be caught.

“Oh- sorry, then. I’ll leave you to it...” Meg says, voice apologetic, and if Charles wasn’t so tired of dealing with her, he might feel bad, but frankly she’s been trailing after him for days and he’s getting tired of waiting for her to take the hint. If this is what it takes, this is what it takes. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Charles says back. He waits until he hears her bedroom door shut again to shove Ransom off of him. “What was that? We could’ve gotten caught! You’re a fucking brat, H,” he hisses poking an aggravated finger into his chest. Ransom smirks and looks at him with wide eyes.

“So teach me a lesson then, Blackwood,” he purrs, and Charles takes it as the bait it is immediately, crowding up against him and fisting a hand through his perfectly slicked back hair. It’s always such a pleasure to mess up the unruffled, cool exterior of him.

“Still need me to show you your place after all these years, baby?” he whispers hotly, pushing Ransom to walk backwards towards the bed and waiting until the back of his knees hits the mattress to shove him on his back. “You’re practically gagging for it.”

“Must mean you’re not very good at your job if I can’t remember after so many times,” Ransom bites back, but his eyes flutter and he sighs at the way Charles climbs on top of him and pins his wrists above his head. For all the Ransom is a headstrong, stubborn rule-breaker in all other parts of his life, this is the one part that he likes to submit in. He’s always loved it when Charles has roughed him up and bossed him around whenever they have sex, and this time is no different.

Charles fits his body in between Ransom’s spread legs and presses their erections together, chuckling at Ransom’s tiny whimper. “You just need a little reminder, darling,” he murmurs, pushing the hem of Ransom’s sweater up with his hand not currently wrapped around his wrists. “You’re my bitch, sweetheart. Isn’t that right?”

“Fuck,” Ransom breathes out, hips jerking up when Charles gets a hand under his pants and underwear to wrap around his cock. “Charles, _fuck_.”

“Yeah, you sure sound like my bitch,” Charles chuckles lowly. “My gorgeous baby.” He smiles predatorily down at him. “Want me to get your pretty cock out, darling? Want me to get my mouth on it?” he hums, sliding off of Ransom and the bed to settle on his knees between Ransom’s legs, still hanging off the bed. Ransom moans quietly when Charles kisses at the head of his cock, smearing his lips wet with his precome.

“ _Charles_ ,” Ransom begs. “ _Please_.”

Charles pulls his lips away from Ransom’s cock and raises an eyebrow at the sad noise it gets him. “What do you want, baby?” he teases, stroking him slowly while he talks. “Oh, I know. You want my cock, don’t you? That’s another thing you are. Not just my bitch, you’re my cockslut, too, aren’t you?” Ransom shakes his head weakly, but Charles grins nonetheless and starts pulling his shoes and pants off. “Can’t fool me when you’re in my bed practically crying for it, baby. Get yourself outta these clothes, c’mon.”

They manage to get Ransom out of his (horribly expensive) clothes fairly fast, and by the time they’re done, Charles has him spread out on his bed, naked and panting for it. He’s still in his own pajama bottoms, and Ransom pulls imploringly at the strings from where they’re dangling with Charles pinning him into the mattress. “Your turn,” he demands, and at Charles’ reproaching look he shrinks a little and adds on a begrudging “please?” that Charles just can’t say no to.

“Pushy,” he comments anyways, shoving his pants down his thighs and tossing them off the bed. “You’re so needy for my cock, even looking at it is enough to make you start begging.”

“I’m not begging,” Ransom argues back heatedly. “If you’d just-“ he breaks off into a quiet moan when Charles wraps his hand around him again, and Charles laughs at the sudden change in heart.

“That’s what I thought, darling,” he coos, leaning down to kiss him, wet and messy. “You want it, don’t you? Want my cock? I’m gonna fuck you so good you’re gonna start cryin’ with how much you wanna scream from it, but you’re gonna have to keep quiet unless you wanna disturb the rest of the house. Can you stay quiet for me, sweetheart?” he asks, thumbing over the head of Ransom’s cock.

“God fucking- yeah, Charles, I swear,” Ransom gasps out, hips flexing up and trying to fuck into Charles’ hand. “I swear- please-“

“Oh, you do have manners, after all,” Charles grins. “Alright, darling, I’ll fuck you. Since you asked so nicely.”

“You’d better,” Ransom rasps, whimpering at the loss of Charles’ hand while he leans over to the nightstand to get the lube. “After all this teasing, I don’t wanna be able to walk for a _week_.”

“Oh, darling,” Charles says darkly, slicking up his fingers and sliding them down to rub over Ransom’s hole. “If I have it my way, you won’t ever be able to leave my bed again.” With that, he pushes the first finger inside and any thoughts Ransom had of banter fly out the window.

Frankly, it’s a miracle that no one is woken again by the desperate noises Ransom lets out for the better part of the next half hour, groaning and whining at the feeling of Charles sliding in and fucking him to the point of incoherency. He’s trying his best to stay quiet, really. But he’s gone a while since having anyone fuck him, and the sex is always better with Charles. He’s practically been doomed to fail at keeping quiet.

Charles just looks at him with a patronizing smile and keeps up with the filthy roll of his hips, offering him no reprieve despite his look of false sympathy. “You need help, darling? You always were a screamer, weren’t you?” he asks knowingly, offering his hand up to quiet the man writhing under him like it’s a favor and not his fault Ransom is crying out in the first place. But Ransom takes the offer and nods anyways, not wanting to get caught. Charles presses the heel of his palm to Ransom’s panting mouth and covers him with it, eyes dancing when he feels Ransom’s noise straining to stay muffled.

“I’m gonna come, darling,” Charles groans, hips snapping up to drive his cock into Ransom’s hole at a brutal pace. “I’m gonna come, gonna fill that slutty hole just how we both know you like-“ He’s cut off by his own moan, low and guttural against Ransom’s heaving neck as he pants on the edge of his own orgasm. The feeling of Charles coming in him, hot and wet, is enough to send him over too, letting out a pathetic moan against Charles’ hand that he knows he’s going to feel humiliated about later.

However, as the two of them are lying side by side in Charles bed, still sweaty and breathless, he doesn’t feel much besides satisfied and sleepy. That is, until Charles speaks up.

“So, your grandfather…” he trails off, and Ransom lets out an aggravated groan.

“Jesus Christ, Charles, way to ruin the afterglow,” he grumbles, flopping on his side and tucking his face into Charles’ neck so the other man won’t be able to see his eyes squeezing shut when they start watering. He always gets like this after sex with Charles, weepy and cuddly in a way he’s never been outside of times like this. Charles just…does something to him. With his dick. That makes him feel vulnerable and floaty in a way he both loves and hates.

Charles shushes him and starts to stroke his hair with a soothing hand. “No, listen, come on. I’m trying to make a plan. You don’t deserve what that old bastard is trying to do to you, baby, we can’t just let him get away with it.” His voice is firm and borderline…protective? Ransom frowns at the way his stomach flutters at the thought.

“What do you have in mind? Pre-meditated murder?” he asks sarcastically, voice muffled against Charles’ still damp skin.

Charles doesn’t answer for a long moment.

Ransom lifts his head and looks at him with questioning eyes that widen when he sees the serious expression on the other man’s face. “You can’t be serious,” he says incredulously, but Charles is already nodding his head and talking.

“I mean, H, he’s old, he’s obviously a piece of shit, what’s the big deal if we accidentally slip him an air shot or something? No one would suspect a thing. He probably hasn’t had time to change the will yet,” Charles reasons, voice dangerously calm and calculated. “He’s probably gonna die in the next year anyways. It’s not like it’d be that big of a deal. Just promise each of your family a job or a check after the will is read and they wouldn’t even question it.”

“Charles…” Ransom trails off, wracking his brain for a reason _not_ to immediately say yes. All he can settle on protesting with is “it’s murder.”

“Is it really, if he’s about to die anyways? What are you going to do once your family cuts you off?” Charles asks gently. “You don’t have anything to fall back on. I’d be more than willing to let you stay with me, but you don’t want that and we both know it. You hate feeling like you owe me. Half the time you hate _me_.”

Ransom shakes his head, still halfway in disbelief. “I don’t hate you,” he admits quietly. “Not really, I just- Charles, you’re not even _here_ most of the time. Every time after I see you, you’re gone when the first few fucks are over and I don’t see you for years after. I can’t just let you help me murder someone- that’s what it would be, don’t argue with me- and then go back to living with a family who would have no idea what I’ve done. I don’t even know if they’d accept who I am without that added on. I can’t live like that, not with how lonely it already is being the black sheep of the family.”

They’re both silent for a moment, Charles’ hand stroking slowly down his hair and the length of his back, and then-

“What if I didn’t leave?” Charles asks tentatively. Ransom blinks.

“You’d stay?” he breathes, disbelieving. Charles expression is hesitant, but sincere. He nods.

“And no, not just for your money,” Charles says firmly. “I wouldn’t touch a penny. I’m more than fine on my own with my inheritance, and I don’t want you to think that I’d be sticking around just for that. But, yes, I’d like to stay this time. If you’d let me,” he says quietly. “Living on my own hasn’t been the best for me either, and I…I like being with you,” he finishes. “Keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure. Fucking feisty little brat, you are.” He’s smiling when he says it, and despite the gruesomeness of the plan he’s about to agree to, Ransom has to smile back.

“You just like me because I feed your power complex in bed,” he jokes. “And my ass.”

Charles looks mockingly thoughtful for a second, reaching down and grabbing at Ransom’s ass with a rough hand. “That, too, I can admit.” He grins maniacally at the man beside him, who lets out a snort and rolls Charles on top of him so he’s pinned comfortably beneath.

“You’re crazy,” he says finally, but he knows Charles doesn’t take it to heart with how he raises an eyebrow as if to say _what’s new?_ “If the police ever ask, just know that I am definitely playing the coercion card,” he informs him. “You’re the one who corrupted me into saying yes to your insane plan.”

Charles smile is glittering with promise when he leans down to kiss him, tongue licking into his mouth immediately and sliding slow and filthy along his own, bodies pressing together like they had when Charles was fucking him. “Oh, but darling,” he murmurs against Ransom’s parted lips. “Corrupting you is my favorite thing to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> and then they got away with killing the old homophobe, stole all his money, and lived happily ever after together.
> 
> disclaimer: I cannot condone the murder of your homophobic relatives yada yada yada. be gay! do crime! just not homicide! homocide?
> 
> comments and kudos are welcomed!


End file.
